Home is a Four Letter Word

prologue

New Year's Eve, senior year of High School

Parties like this made Jake Holmes want to throw himself into the massive bonfire that had nearly burned a hole into the middle of Katherine Breyer's backyard. He wouldn't lie to himself and say that the thought hadn't crossed his mind. There was something about the growing chatter from every angle he could hear from—coupled with the smell of a wood pile burning, and whoever's beer was spilled down his shirt—that made Jake want to give up and count himself among those passed out in the lawn chairs along the driveway. How he had even ended up here instead of spending another New Year's at home in the comfort of his pajamas he truly didn't know.

When Katherine had decided her parents going out of town meant throwing a huge outdoor party on the coldest—and coincidentally, last—night of the year, every high schooler in this town decided it was the place to be. One of those slightly-buzzed attendees included Aaron Keller, who had just hopped out of the driver's seat of the truck that he had pulled up right next to the fire as if it hadn't been the worst decision he made all night. If Aaron weren't here, Jake wouldn't have been either.

At two minutes before midnight any other given year, Jake might have been up with his family, sitting on the floor in the living room with the New York City ball drop pulled up on whatever news channel was broadcasting it. As the tradition went, they would be talking about their Big Five—a list of five resolutions that everyone set out to complete before the end of the year. Whoever the unlucky last person to complete their list was was the person stuck driving the entire way down to Tennessee when they went to see their grandmother on Christmas break. This year it had been his father with his unsuccessful attempt to trade alcohol for caffeine. Next year, Jake guessed it would be himself.

Jake hadn't quite finished his list yet. There were a multitude of things he would like to do, but he had to pick the right ones to present to his family. For his family's list he knew the things he wanted to include: picking a university, graduating with honors, getting a summer job that didn't suck ass like his job last year cleaning barn stalls, suffering through a rom-com with his sister McKenna (and coming to enjoy it), and one more thing he had yet to determine. Then there was the list of things he wanted to do, but couldn't tell anyone: saving for a new car to drive to college instead of his gas-guzzling old truck, reading at least one book just for the hell of it, and maybe, just maybe, coming out. He was yet to define exactly what coming out entailed, all he knew was the task was unrealistic under most—if not all—circumstances, and likely to cause him more trouble than his honesty was worth.

The sound of his friend Hunter stomping in the back of Aaron's truck jolted Jake's attention back to the party with an unwelcome ring in his ears.

"Attention, ladies and gentlemen!" He yelled, the very sound of his voice echoing through the crowd and down into the trees that laced Katherine's backyard.

Jake swore he woke up at least one animal from hibernation from how much noise he had made tonight. Hunter Anderson was always one for a show. You'd never catch him in silence—he would be dead before he gave up his space in the spotlight. Hunter was the golden boy of the town—much like the blond hair he had stowed away tonight under his backwards baseball cap. His family owned the only car dealership in a thirty mile radius along with half the rental properties on this side of the tracks. He was handed anything and everything he wanted on a silver platter, down to his brand new Chevy and the fireworks for tonight he had splurged on across the Kentucky border. Without a struggle for anything else, Hunter's life was only rewarded by the attention he was given from others, but thankfully for him, that was never a shortage he had to endure.

"Aaron has a speech."

The word Aaron ended up sounding more like 'ern' every time it left his mouth. The laziness in pronunciation had always made Jake subconsciously roll his eyes, but it also offered him the opportunity to make himself painstakingly aware of what he didn't want to sound like. Everyone in this town had a similar twang—not quite southern in sound, but definitely not refined. Jake tried his best to not fall into the trap, but some days that lazy drawl tempted him as well.